The lack of Reviews on this one is making me rather sad :( The ones I have got are quite lovely though :)
Anyway, I really like Grindewald. I really hope you will see him the way I do, because he is rather brilliant in my mind. I really should stop writing about rain thouhg. ..but it is England so its plausible at least!

Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

Albus thinks Hogwarts, and conjures his patronus. The ghostly Phoenix stretches its wings in a flight around the room before landing next to Fawkes, who eyes it carefully. Fawkes had been a gift for Ariana for her 12th birthday, and it had cost Albus and Aberforth most of their savings. Her delight when she saw the bird had made it more than worth it, though.

Ariana is seated in her bed, propped up with several multicolored pillows of all shapes and sizes, and she is wearing a white tunic-like nightgown. She watches the patronus and Fawkes for a moment, giggling to herself, before turning back to her paper crane, that she was attempting to fold. Their mother had always encouraged Ariana to take up hobbies of her own, so that her bed-ridden state would not prevent her from having fun. She had tried a variety of things over the years since she was broken, everything from aquarelle painting to playing the flute, but the only thing that had actually stuck was Origami. Her room was now filled with different shapes of folded paper, with cranes and phoenixes hung from the ceiling and lotus blossoms in neat little rows on the windowsills, next to a few garden gnomes. Albus lets the patronus disappear again, not feeling especially joyous at the moment.
"You are not here tonight, Albus" Ariana states, without looking away from her crane. She is having one of her better days. She has been humming all morning and the origami's are all light blue.
"I'm sorry, Ariana. I have some things on my mind." Albus answers and sits down beside her on the bed.
"You shouldn't trust him" She says, suddenly looking Albus straight in the eye.
"Who?" he asks, slightly unnerved by her stare.
"The golden haired man" she answers, then looks back down at her paper.
"You mean our neighbor?" Albus tries, wondering how she even knew about Grindewald. She hadn't been out of her room since the funeral. Ariana doesn't answer, once again engrossed in her folding. Albus sighs, secretly quite relieved that she was back to her old absent-minded self. Now and then she would say things that was uncomfortable spot on, and Albus always feared that they meant that she would see through him, see all his secret thoughts, and detest him for them.

Ariana finishes the crane, and hands it to Albus who enchants it to fly around the room. Ariana laughs and tries to catch it with her small, pale hands. She's lovely when she is like this, Albus thinks. Her eyes bright with laughter and her mind clear enough to know where she is. There are days, when she doesn't remember her own name, or who Albus is. That is why he cherishes days like these. "Want me to tell you a story?" He asks her, and she nods happily.

"There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight..."

He tells the story as he remembers it, but tries to hurry it along. He has other things he needs to do this afternoon. A meeting to attend. By the time he reaches "...Then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, as equals, they departed this life." Ariana is fast asleep, clutching her latest piece of origami. Albus carefully pries the paper figure from her hand, and takes some time to tuck her in, before leaving the room. The rest of the house is empty compared to Ariana's room. They had sold most of their family heirlooms to afford the house and the sudden move to Godrics Hollow, so most of the corridors lay barren, and the rooms are all sparsely furnished. Down the hall from Arianas room is their mothers room. The moment they got home from the funeral Albus had closed that door, and it hasn't been opened since. There is only one window in the corridor. Its raining quietly against it as Albus walks past. Downstairs there are four rooms. A living room containing only a lonely chair and a sowing machine. Then there is Albus's room, decorated with the only painting left in the household, a small portrait of his father and mother when they had just gotten married. Aberforth lives in the room next to that, and he has never bothered trying to change the initial decor. A small kitchen with only the bare necessities opens up to the yard, where Aberforth keeps his two pet goats, Durmas and Capricorn. Why he is so fond of goats, Albus might never know.

Albus makes his way out to the porch, where he stands on the steps just outside the roof, letting the drizzle of the rain wash over his face. Absent-mindlessly turning the small origami figure over in his hand. Ariana has gotten better. This one is a very good version of a skull with a snake emerging from its mouth. He wonders why she should take the time to make such an eerie piece of craft, when she has done nothing but flowers and birds before.

The church bells chimes through the rain, letting all of Godrics Hollow know that it is half past 2 in the afternoon. He is probably late for his meeting with the kid. Is it Arianas strange words that holds him back from going, or is it something more? The boy is from Durmstrang, , and that alone makes him suspicious. Never mind the fact that he has gotten expelled from there! But that is not it. It is a strange feeling deep down in his gut that feels uncomfortable close to fear.
No, of course that cannot be. Albus Dumbledore, one of the most promising students in Hogwarts for centuries, would not fear a two years younger Durmstrang dropout! He snorts at himself and heads out into the rain, passing through the black metal gate with the number 34 ensnared in its ornaments, taking the turn towards the graveyard.

The boy is already there, slouching casually against one of the larger tombstones. He is wearing a long deep-crimson coat of a fancy model, with its collar turned up against the rain. His heavy blonde curls hanging free from the back of his head, not dampened but intensified by the dampness of the air. He has all the look of the most attractive man in the British empire, and the air of one who knows that it is true.

"I was beginning to think you might not show, Dumbledore." He says, straightening his posture. Albus notices a faint trace of an accent in the boys voice. No wonder, since he has lived most his life on the continent.

"I did not intend to." Albus answers, still standing several meters from the younger boy.
"What made you change your mind?"
"I will tell you, should I find out." Grindewald smiles widely at that. Its a friendly, disarming smile. Albus relaxes his wand hand, now realizing that he had been gripping his wand behind his back

"Tell me Dumbledore, what do you know of the Deathly Hallows?" Grindewald asks, pacing the ground in front of a grave, gesticulating with his wand as he talks.
"I have read the story, of course. In several different editions, back in the Hogwarts library. None where very informative, though." Grindewald nods, as if he had come to the same conclusion.
"I have done some research in the central library in London as well, out of curiosity." Dumbledore continues. "I found hints that the elder wand may have been in Croatia, just 20 years ago. But the trail goes cold after that." Albus frowned at himself, realizing that he had given away more information than he had wanted.
"Yes, yes, that is good information indeed. But the wand can wait. Come here." Grindewald says, gesticulating at the tombstone behind him. It has the name IGNOTUS PEVRELL chiseled into the stone, and a strange triangle-like symbol engraved underneath. Albus studies the tombstone carefully.

"Pevrell. I have heard the name before" he says.
"I have reliable sources that say the Pevrell brothers are the source of the legend itself. Ignotious, Cadmus and Antioch." Grindewald says, barely containing his glee. Albus cannot help but feel a little excited as well.
"If that is true... But it cannot be. The Pevrells are just an old family that used to live around here. What is your proof?" Grindewald just smiles even wider.
"look here" He says, pointing at the symbol beneath the name. "This symbol, I have seen it before." He rummages around in his pocket, and his pale hand returns holding a small pendant and a piece of parchment. He holds the pendant in front of the symbol on the tomb, showing how the shape of the pendant is exactly the same as the tomb symbol.
"I inherited this from a distant relative when he died, four years ago. His name was Dederik, and he devoted his life to searching for the Deathly Hallows. He also wrote me this" He gives Albus the piece of parchment. Carefully not to let any raindrops hit the ink and smear it, Albus reads the letter.

Gellert.
I never became the master of death, for it was not my burden to bear.
Take this pendant as a token of my trust that one day, you will find what I never did.

Darius Dederik

"But what does it mean?" Albus asks, folding the parchment and giving it back to Grindewald.
"I am not sure, not yet. Now come, lets get out of this blasted rain." He pockets the Pendant and letter once again, and begins striding towards the gates of the graveyard. Albus follows, speeding his steps so that he can walk next to Grindewald.

"But tell me, Dumbledore. Will you help me in my quest?" The younger man asks, blinking the rain out of his eyes.
"i am still not confident I can trust you." Albus says, slightly annoyed by the fact that he is not taller than Grindewald.

"And neither I you. But I believe that in order to find this great treasure, we will need both our minds. I firmly believe that we are very similar, you and I."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Both talented in the ways of magic, both of sharp intellect and a thirst for knowledge. Both frowned upon by the world because of unfortunate incidents. And orphan as well, now that I think about it."

"But what would you do, Grindewald? If you were the master of death?"

"Demand the respect that has been denied me, perhaps." Grindewald pushes his hands into the pockets of the coat, a small smile playing on his lips.
"But that is not why I am searching for the Hallows. I want them in order to live forever."
"So you fear death then?" Albus asks, surprised that someone with such confidence as his would admit to such a weakness.
"We all fear death, Dumbledore. We would be fools not to. Do not pretend that you have not felt the panic, in the midst of the night when the thought occurs to you that one day, you will no longer be here. Have you not felt the fear squeeze your heart at the thought that you might simply loose control of yourself, to feel your own body rot in a box, six feet under the ground." Grindewald continues, his voice grim and his eyes steel.
"Or worse yet, darkness. Simply darkness." Albus remains quiet. The answer is clear enough.

During their conversation they have managed to walk all the way to Bathilda Bagshot's front door. Albus had been so engrossed in the conversation that he had barely noticed that they had been moving at all. Disoriented, he stops by the steps to the door.
"Come then, let us put our minds together and see what we can find. I have no doubt we will come up with great things, you and I."
"I still haven't said I'd help you." Albus tries, rather lamely. Grindewald just raises and eyebrow, and walks through the door, leaving it open behind him.

Seconds later, Albus follows.

It is our choices...that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.